Redemption
by White Phantom
Summary: An Illidari shadow priest tries to figure out what to do with herself after Illidan's demise. Please R&R!
1. Prologue

_Disclaimer: I do not own the World of Warcraft. Hats off to Blizzard for an awesome game. _

_A/N: This is the back story for my RP character, Katristra on Wyrmrest Accord. I had another story up for her, but it started far later than this one and the set up for it wasn't working for telling most of the story._

_Anyway, hope you enjoy. Please read and review!_

…-…

Katristra Sunswhisper wasn't sure if she'd just been saved or victimized by chance. Of all the things that could have brought about an end to her day, this had not even been considered. She'd seen some good, _plenty_ bad, and a little bit of in between in her lifetime, but this…

This was definitely bad.

Though…

Though some small part of her, her conscience perhaps, couldn't stop whispering, "Opportunity…" and another part, the part that normally squelched any form of regret or doubt or even the occasional self-loathing, for once it seemed to agree, echoing only, "Necessity…" in her muddled brain.

There were plenty of things she _could_ have done, reactions she _could_ have had. However, the fact that everything had come to this was just a bit too much.

And so, instead of screaming or crying or seeking vengeance or giving thanks, Katristra Sunswhisper found the nearest intact chair, and sat down.


	2. Chapter I

Katristra Sunswhisper woke up with every inch of her body sore and a pounding in her head that could only mean she'd gone far too long without fel magic. Even as her hand slipped to her hip to where she kept her pouch of mana crystals, only for her fingers to catch on some sort of netting, she heard a gruff voice call out to her.

The words sounded Orcish and for a moment she thought that one of those despicable Dragonmaw brutes had wandered into her camp again, thinking itself worthy of an audience with someone. Obviously the mongrel was overstepping its boundaries if it thought it was even remotely within its rights to waken someone such as her from her sleep. And when she was in withdrawal, to boot…

As she found her mind too muddled to untangle her fingers from whatever they'd been caught in, Katristra opened her brilliantly fel green eyes and almost immediately froze, barely managing to stop herself from slinging a scathing insult the orc's way. The creature leaning over her, frowning as his brow furrowed together and he looked her over, did not have the deep red skin, nor the massive tusks, of a Dragonmaw.

Instead, his skin was green and his tusks were…well, mild compared to the orcs she was used to seeing.

Vague memories came flooding back into her head as she realized that she wasn't in Shadowmoon Valley any longer. She could remember something about having to leave, but even as she tried to conjure more details, all she could think about was that if she didn't find some fel magic in the next few seconds, bodies were going to start hitting the floor.

If only she could untangle her damned hand…

Even as she looked down, she heard a lighter voice trill through the air in that same grotesque language. However, as the orc beside her grunted and stepped away from her side, a sin'dorei woman came into view, her eyes scrutinizing over every crease and sweat stain tainting Katristra's robes.

In her proper mind, Katristra might have been horrified to be seen so disheveled, with her light orange hair looking a few grungy shades darker and hanging around her head and shoulders in matted clumps, her robes so covered in grime that their original colors were lost, and her face lined with crisscrossing red marks from where she'd been sleeping on her side on a hammock.

Fortunately for her, none of that registered. Instead, all she could think about was that the woman who had come over to her had fel magic in her veins and she wanted it. However, even as she looked around the room, trying to concentrate on how many creatures were present and how many she might need to fend off after draining the woman of her magic, the elf beside her let out a soft, 'Oh!' and rummaged through her pockets.

It was as though the twisting nether itself had taken pity on Katristra as the woman produced her own pouch of mana crystals and offered it to her, saying something about helping herself.

Katristra did. Nearly a dozen crystals later her headache finally subsided and she came to enough of her senses to realize that both the elf and the other orcs in the room were watching her with looks ranging from mistrust to bewilderment to disgust.

While she probably could have finished off all of the crystals and still craved more, she forced her hands to offer the bag back to its own and the woman took them, shaking her head with a sort of condescending sympathy on her face. At least when she spoke, it was in Thalassian.

"Poor thing, you've been lost in the swamp for days, haven't you?"

For a second, Katristra's pride swelled up and she wanted to snap out a few of her more prominent accomplishments, but even as her indignant fury rose to color her cheeks, she remembered that the faces around her were green and not red.

With a clearer mind, it occurred to her that she had to be in a Horde settlement and that the elf beside her was no Illidari, but one of the many Kael'thas had left behind when he'd gone to Outland.

"Don't you worry," the elf spoke, her voice ringing with a tone that implied by merely talking to Katristra she was doing her a huge favor. "We'll have you patched up and on your way in no time." She reached out and let her fingers touch Katristra's tangled hair before she seemed to think better of it and pulled her hand away, trying to discreetly wipe her fingers on the edge of the hammock, as though the dirt and grit had instantly jumped from Katristra's person to hers. "I feel I should warn you though, if you were planning on going to Outland for glory, you're too late. Illidan is defeated. As is our traitor prince."

Katristra felt a knot form in her stomach. She'd heard the rumors when she was still in Shadowmoon Valley. Orders had abruptly ceased and the lower ranking soldiers were beginning to whisper that something had happened in the Black Temple. That the adventurers who had swept through the valley weeks before had managed to do the unthinkable. The higher ups had been pressed to maintain order, though the stricter they became and the less questions they answered, the more panicked everyone else became.

While Katristra had never held an official title, she had still been important. That had been why she'd been assigned the mission to go to one of the larger camps and request aid when the adventurers had begun to hammer them continuously, picking away at the forces of the Illidari.

And it had been because of that job that she'd been in between stations when they'd been attacked simultaneously and wiped out. She'd arrived in time to see her brethren's corpses scattered across the tainted soil, with a few of those damned 'heroes'—the remnants of whatever raid had swept through the post—stripping her fellow Illidari of any belongings that looked like they might sell for a pretty copper. It was disgusting how greedy the so called saviors of the world could be.

Some pitiful human mage had caught her in the outskirts of the carnage while she attempted to look for any survivors—as a shadow priest she was be loathe to heal anyone, but she would do what was necessary to secure her own future, including patching up a meat shield or two. In the end, the mage had died screaming as her mind twisted the shadows around her into the stuff of nightmares.

Katristra had been forced to retreat for a time, but once she was sure that there was no one left to rally to—the damnable adventurers were nothing if not thorough—she'd circled back around to find them and keep a close watch from the shadows. The last thing she'd needed was to be careless and join her comrades in the afterlife.

The adventurers found their companion and in the midst of tears and curses, stood over her, arguing about whether they ought to lay her to rest where she was or bring the body back home for a proper burial.

That they could destroy everything that had ever meant anything to Katristra and then just ignore it as they argued over something so petty had infuriated her. After all, they were more than willing to let her brethren's corpses rot in the open air, dishonored without funeral rights as the wildlife tore apart their decaying flesh.

And so she'd turned her mind games onto them, her own thoughts snaking into the mind of their healer. The druid had barely had time to register what was happening before she'd slaughtered her nearest companion under Katristra's command. Though the others had realized what was happening, without being able to find the culprit, one of them had finally been forced to strike down the druid. From there, it had been easy to snuff the light from the remaining two.

After sweeping through the camp once more to make sure there were no other lingering enemies, Katristra had headed back to her base to report the defeat.

When she'd arrived, she'd been at a loss. It was as though her entire world had crumbled in a day, as though she were the last of the Illidari remaining. She'd gone to her superior's tents, searching for plans or maps that might tell her where she could go to report the defeats, but everything had been either burned or stolen.

After sitting in an eerie silence for almost the entire night, she'd gathered what few supplies had been untouched during the fighting and unnoticed during the plundering and headed back to the other camp, to check for maps there as well.

There had been nothing.

It baffled her that she could have been so lucky to have missed both battles, though a part of her whispered that it was no luck that left her so completely alone in the world. Eventually someone would realize who or what she was and then…

She let her gaze wander the dimly lit room of the orcish inn again.

It would be best if they assumed she was some pitiable adventurer herself, lost and weak. The last thing she needed was them connecting her to the very forces that were being purged in Outland.

Even if she probably could decimate the little building—perhaps take out the settlement once she'd had time to rest properly—it would just leave a target on her back. She needed to disappear and that meant she needed to do her best to not leave a trail of corpses in her wake.

The sin'dorei woman had come with a male elf as well—though he was dressed in the sort of rags one might expect an orc or troll to call clothing, rather than that of a civilized creature—and the two had been speaking almost nonstop while Katristra gathered her thoughts, though the woman finally came to her senses and paused long enough to offer a prompt nod of her head. "Where are my manners? I tell you, being trapped out here with orcs can ruin one's sensibility," She glanced toward the brutes around them with a smile that looked almost genuine as though she weren't insulting them in a language they didn't understand. However, even as the other elf with her frowned and looked to argue with her, she waved her hand toward him and then introduced herself. "I'm Cersei Dusksinger. That's Lorrin Foxfire. Don't mind him; he's a bit…infatuated with other cultures."

Lorrin muttered something about embracing ally's ways, but Cersei didn't even deem his comment worth a glance.

When Katristra merely nodded back, some mindless pleasantry slipping from her lips, both elves frowned. Cersei lightly primped her hair, donning a stern expression. "Come now, you may have been through some ordeal, but surely you can muster at least a proper introduction?"

"Katri—" Katristra realized that her full name would bring her nothing but damnation. After all, hadn't she just been reminding herself that she needed to disappear? "Katri..." she tried to think of a name that had nothing to do with her own. "Ember…brook."

"Katri Emberbrook?" Cersei tilted her head as she repeated the name, as though her wild, dark locks of hair could have somehow clogged her slender ears.

Katristra forced a smile that she hoped came off as weary rather than annoyed. "That's right."

Lorrin had offered her an awkward thump of his chest that sent most of the orcs in the building rolling their eyes. "A pleasure to meet you."

It took a great deal of effort to echo the sentiment and make it sound like she might have even remotely meant it, but she managed. As she finished speaking, she swung her legs off the hammock, finally freeing her fingers from the twists of rope beneath her, and tried to stand up.

It was amazing how quickly the world began to spin and dip.

As she dropped back onto the hammock, Lorrin not minding gripping her shoulders and easing her back down while Cersei stepped away as though not to get any excess grime on herself, Katristra felt trapped.

What if they found out who she was? Would she be able to take them all, when she could barely stand? It had been hellish enough traveling through Outland and avoiding the major settlements as she tried to figure out where to go.

Her fear had to have reflected on her features—frail as she was, her usual ability to mask her emotions was shot—for Lorrin gave her a gentle smile, his concern more genuine than his female companion's. "Don't worry. There may be plenty of horrors out in the swamp, but they won't get you here. Rest for now and when you're feeling a bit better we'll see if we can't scrounge up enough water for a bath."

Honestly, that sounded heavenly. Though a part of her wanted to fight the idea of staying anywhere that returning heroes from the warfronts might trek through on their journeys home, she was too tired to move anyway.

Lorrin and Cersei continued with more promises of baths and grooming and perhaps even new clothes, if they could be found, as Katristra gave herself over to fate and allowed herself to sleep.


	3. Chapter II

_A/N: This chapter is kind of exposition-y, but I needed it out of the way so that I can get to some of the more fun stuff later ._

_Anyway, hope you enjoy! Reviews are loved!_

…-…

"For the Horde…"

The paladin spoke with a certain blasé attitude that all but screamed he would be under the Alliance banner if he could. Katristra could understand the sentiment, though she merely tugged her new hood down a bit further as she stood ready with the rest of them.

In truth, she'd woken up even more lost than when she'd passed out. Cersei and Lorrin had continued to fawn over her in their own ways, with Cersei giving her a few hand-me-downs—that she was honestly wearing them made her stomach turn—and Lorrin offering a beautifully sketched map of all of Azeroth. He hadn't made it yet to Outland, he'd admitted in a low voice before returning his attention to the map. However, while there were still a few places that had yet to be filled in, the detail to the areas he'd visited were exquisite. Katristra didn't doubt she'd be able to find every damned Hill in Eversong or Tirisfal, if she so wished.

However, she'd taken the gifts a bit warily. After all, accepting them all but confirmed she was Horde, which she knew she could never be.

How many 'heroes' from both sides had been brought to her by her superiors? She had a way with the shadows, a way of getting into someone else's mind, a way of reading people and situations so that she could get information. One of her fellow Illidari—a man whose name she couldn't bear to repeat even in her mind as she realized that she would never see him again, as his had been one of the many corpses strewn across their base—had teased her that the only reason they never gave her an official title as an interrogator was because then the Alliance and Horde might know who they needed to hunt down to get the information flow to stop.

It had made her feel important to think that it was her anonymity that kept her people's cause going strong.

But then, in the end they'd fallen, hadn't they? In the end, all of her powers and skills had been useless.

When she'd fled, it had been with the intent of finding others. There had to be more Illidari somewhere. She'd slunk through the shadows like a common criminal, making her way to the Black Temple to see that it had truly been laid to waste. From there, she'd decided to head north, toward Netherstorm. She'd heard that Kael'thas was having problems as well, but had hoped that perhaps the rumors of his fall had been exaggerated.

In Terrokar, she'd come across the decimated Firewing Outpost and known that they had to be true. Somehow, she'd chosen the losing side and there was no where left to run.

She wasn't sure what had drawn her back through the Dark Portal. There was nothing for her in Azeroth, but then, there was nothing for her in Draenor, either. Everywhere she turned had been just…nothingness.

As she'd wandered through the Blasted Lands and up into the swamps to the north, she'd spun plots and plans with every step. The Alliance would fall. The Horde would crumble. She would see to it. She would see them pay for all they'd done.

And yet every fantasy of those alleged heroes begging for mercy ended on a single snag.

How?

She had wracked her brain trying to figure out an answer. She had no army, no immense, innate powers, no demons or other creatures from the nether to back her play. She had nothing, but herself.

It had seemed almost a mercy when she'd found herself too worn out and beaten by fate to pull herself back to her feet in that swamp. As the murky waters had soaked into her clothes and lapped over her arms, her muddled mind had been clear of everything for a few short seconds. In that time, her craving for fel magic, her hatred, her sorrow, had melted away and she'd wondered if perhaps it wasn't for the best that she died and rejoined her brethren.

Their faces had swum up to meet her as she'd embraced her death and she'd almost been able to hear them calling out to her, smiling and beckoning her back to their arms.

And then she'd woken up in that damned inn.

Katristra hung back behind the group and tapped two mana crystals. She could have finished off the scarce supply that Stonard's elves had sent her off with, but then what would she do? As painful and mind-numbing as it was, she needed to learn restraint. At least until she figured out what she was going to do with herself.

She decided, as she'd spent day after day listening to Cersei and Lorrin prattle on about nothing, that she did want to live. Or at least, she _wanted_ to want to.

To do so, she'd needed to find a purpose, a new reason for living. She loathed the thought of never avenging her comrades, but what could be done? What could a single elf do?

She was powerless.

She wasn't sure which elf had noticed—or if it had even been one of the burly, green walls of flesh and frowns that lived in the camp—but near the end of her third week of recovery an undead rogue had approached her. It had taken a great deal of temperance not to recoil from the sight of the thing, his arms twisted and dangling at his sides as though broken and his jaw hanging at an odd angle when he wasn't speaking.

"You're a priestess," He'd said slowly in Thalassian, his tongue unsure of the words.

That he knew to address her in such a language meant he'd had to have talked to another about her. The elf who couldn't speak orcish was quite the joke in Stonard, though she'd merely mumbled something to Lorrin about not getting out much in Silvermoon as her reason why she knew so little of their 'ally's' language.

She stared at him for a moment before mustering a small smile which she hoped came off as timid rather than disgusted. "I am."

"We need a healer."

She had to bite her tongue to keep from commenting that no amount of holy magic would ever 'fix' him. "I'm afraid I'm not a very seasoned healer, but I can try my best if you would like." She looked around for whoever he was talking about. Had some hunter's trap left shrapnel in a leg or something of that sort? While she wasn't great with her holy spells—they were weaker than they ought to have been, as the light was loathe to listen to anyone who harbored fel magic as she did—they would serve to patch up a cut or two.

The rogue stared at her blankly, his glowing eyes reflecting a lack of comprehension. She frowned when she realized that he probably hadn't understood a word of what she'd said to him. As he shifted his weight, he motioned toward her again. "We need a healer."

Katristra cleared her throat as she thought back to the lessons Lorrin had started forcing upon her. He'd wanted her to just speak in orcish and forsake Thalassian all together until she was at least decent with the new language, but Cersei had taken pity on her and kept her sane with elven words. When she spoke, her Orcish words slurred together a bit, much as the Forsaken's Thalassian had. "I…am not so knowing?" She looked at the creature to see if he understood before she continued. "I am trying to help?" She paused, slipping back into Thalassian as she muttered to herself, "It wouldn't be 'I am'…how did it go…?"

In that moment, the paladin had rounded the corner and she'd frozen. Every time an elf came through the post, she'd made herself scarce, terrified that this would be the one to recognize the fel magic in her veins or to have somehow known that she was a member of the Illidari.

However, the man's armor was not that of a seasoned veteran. The metal was not inscribed as intricately and rather than sturdy plate, some of the pieces adorning his body were still more flimsy chain-link mail. He carried himself with the air of one who had slain dragons and deadly beasts, almost as though to compensate for his obvious lack of experience.

"You found her, good," he spoke in orcish before looking toward Katristra and offering a flourished bow. "Miss Emberbrook, I believe it was?"

When she nodded meekly, barely remembering that that had been the name she'd given, he switched to Thalassian. "We've been assigned a mission to Blackrock Mountain. They're saying that some Alliance killed the Dark Iron King, so we're to infiltrate the city and see what we can find out. Two of us are already there and can summon us, but we need a healer."

"I don't know if I—"

"Of course she'll go!" Cersei had cried out, stepping up from nowhere and cheerily giving Katristra a shove toward the two adventurers.

At first, Katristra had wanted to lash out, to assert that she would never waste her mana healing some ill-equipped fools, but even as the words formed in her mind, they fled.

Why not?

There was no reason for her to fight being a member of the Horde. After all, she couldn't crawl to the Alliance for salvation and she couldn't think of any other organizations which might stand even the slightest chance against the warring factions.

So Horde she was, at least, until she could find a way back to somewhere she truly belonged.

And another thought, something that the orcs had been preparing for over the last week and a half, was that the 'heroes' of Outland were on their way home. If anyone might recognize her, it would be one of those fools, so it had made sense that she should get far away from Stonard.

And if worse came to worst, she could always abandon the group. Perhaps the Dark Iron dwarves were stronger than anyone had realized. If so, she'd be more than willing to throw her lot in with them.

Thus, with a small hope daring to whisper in her mind, she smiled more sincerely at the adventurers, speaking to the paladin. "I am not the most skilled in my class, but if you would be willing to go slowly, I will be happy to heal for you."

Cersei had clapped her hands together and handed Katristra her belongings, apologizing that Lorrin wasn't there to see her off. While she'd been briefly terrified that Cersei might have gone through them, the elf seemed to think nothing amiss and instead nudged her, smiling. "I think you'll have everything you need in there. Safe travels!"

The map and 'new' robe had been stuffed into the top along with a small bag of mana crystals.

After convincing the menfolk to let her change first, summons had gone out and Katristra had found herself at the entrance to the old, ancient dwarven city, the smells of sulfur and scorched earth overwhelming her senses as a forsaken warlock greeted the three of them and an orc warrior nodded curtly before turning his attention toward the task ahead.

Katristra tugged on her hood one more time and took in a slow breath before heading after the group. As she followed after the others, she echoed the paladin's words softly, trying them out herself, "For the Horde…"


End file.
